One Shots From Maxon's Point Of View
by Selected For Dauntles
Summary: Just a few one-shots from the Selection Trilogy for Maxon's point of view
1. The Talk

"Ouch," I mumble as I prick my finger for the third time, pinning my most recently developed photos to the wall above my desk. Mostly they are just pictures taken in the gardens.

More recently though, I've started broadening my horizon, taking photos of people or abstract detail within the stone walls of the castle I call my home.

I turn as I hear a knock on my door. "Come in," I call, turning back to my project at hand. A maid enters with a tray balanced in one hand and a note in the other.

"Your afternoon tea Your Majesty," She says, placing the tray on a table.

"Thank you," I say, nodding to her. "Is that all?" I glance at the note in her hand.

"A note your Majesty," She replies with a smile.

Placing the stack of photographs onto my already cluttered desk I turn fully towards her. "Thank you," I say, taking the paper from her hands. "You may go."

She curtsies and turns quickly, closing the door behind her and leaving me again on my own. I open the letter, expecting to find another note telling me I am needed in a meeting or from my mother.

Instead I find the familiar handwriting of America.

 _Your Majesty -_

I laugh at this.

 _Tugging my ear. Whenever._

The smile immediately drops off my face at this, as my mind runs through all the possible reasons for her to write me a note rather than just waiting to see me at dinner. I drop the paper onto the floor and am in the hall in seconds. Without bothering to grab my coat or fix my hair I all but sprint to her room, only to find she is not there.

"Your Majesty," one of her maids answers the door, swooping into a low curtsy. I catch a glimpse of the other two following suit behind her.

"Is America here?" I question, out of breath.

"No your highness," her maid replies. "She left hours ago."

"Do you know where she went?" I pant, trying to catch my breath.

"You could try the womens room," suggests the youngest maid from the back.

"Thank you ladies," I reply, turning an starting toward the staircase leading to the womens room. I trade in my sprint for a light jog as I hurry down the hallways. What had happened? Is she sick? Hurt? Worry spreads through me like wildfire. Is it her family? Was there an attack. I don't know what I would do if her beloved family had been hurt because I hadn't provided enough protection.

Skidding around another corner I catch sight of bright red hair. A sense of relief spreads through me as I get close enough to see that she is not physically ill.

"America?"

She turned, looking surprised when she sees me Then she freezes and the worry returns.

"Are you okay?" I demand, grabbing her wrists. "What's wrong?"

A look of confusion sweeps across her beautiful face as she replies, "Nothing. I'm fine."

I breath a sigh of relief, but not stopping searching her body for broken bones or bruises. "Thank goodness. When I got your note, I thought you were sick or something had happened to your family."

She looks surprised which soon melts into a look of guilt. "Oh! Oh, no Maxon, I'm so sorry. I knew that was a stupid idea. I just didn't know if you'd be at dinner, and I wanted to see you."

"Well what for?" I question, resuming my search for harm to her clean, light skin.

"Just to see you," She replies easily.

I freeze, looking up in surprise. This girl had went through the trouble of having a note delivered to me, just so we could spend time together.

"You wanted to see me?" I ask with happy surprise laced into my voice.

"Don't be so shocked," she laughs. "Friends usually spend time together."

And then it sinks in that she hadn't called on me because there was something wrong or because she had wanted a date. "Ah, you're cross with me because I've been engaged all week, aren;t you?" And she had every right to be. I had been speed dating all week so that the other girls would have something to talk about during the the next report. "I didn't mean to neglect our friendship America," I continue, trying not to wince at the word friendship.

She looks as though she is working to hold back an eye roll. "No, I'm not mad. I was just explaining myself. You look busy. Go back to work, and I'll see you when you're free.

Her words remind me that a meeting would have just started, that I should be at.

"Actually, do you mind if I stay a few minutes? They're having a budget meeting upstairs, and I detest those things.

Assuming she will agree, I pull her by the wrists I am still holding to a sofa a little of the way down the hallway.

She looks at me, giggling, as we sit.

"What's so funny?" I demand.

"Just you," She says with a smile. "It's cute that your job bugs you. What's so bad about the meetings, anyway?"

"Oh America!" I exclaim with an exaggeratedly large sigh. "They go round and round in circles. Father does a good job at calming the advisers, but it's so hard to push the committees in any given direction." I try not to groan as I continue, "Mom is always on Father to give to the school systems - she thinks the more educated you are, the less likely you are to be a criminal, and I agree - but Father is never forceful enough to get them to take away from other areas that could manage perfectly with lower founds. It's infuriating!" I rant. "And it's not like I'm in command so my opinion is easily overlooked."

I let out a tired sigh and rest my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut. I feel America's comforting hand on my back and immediately feel guilty for laying all of this on her.

She surprises me though, when she says, "I'm sorry. On the plus side, you'll have more of a say in the future."

"I know," I murmur. "I tell myself that. But it's so frustrating when we could change things now if they'd only listen," I complain to the carpet.

"Well don't be too discouraged," She says hearteningly. "Your mom is on the right path, but education won't fix everything."

This statement takes me off guard. I can understand that she is only trying to help but I was raised to do this. And my mother has already been doing it. She knows what she's doing. Though I don't mean to sound so accusatory when I look up and say, "What do you mean?"  
When she sees my expression, a guilty expression takes over her face. Carefully, she explains, "Well compared to the fancy-pants tutors someone like you has, the education system for sixes and sevens is terrible. I think getting better teachers or better facilities would do a world of good. But then what about the eights? Isn't that the caste responsible for most of the crimes? They don't get any education. I think if they felt they had something, anything at all, it might encourage them.

"Besides," she pauses, seeming to consider how to word her next statement. "Have you ever been hungry? Not just ready for dinner, but _starving_?"

This takes me off guard. Surely she must know I haven't.

"If there was absolutely no food here, nothing for your mother or father, and you knew that if you just took something from people who had more in a day than you did in your whole life, you could eat… what would you do? If they were counting on you, what wouldn't you do for someone you loved?"

It takes me a minute to answer and I briefly remember our conversation during the first rebel attack on the castle since the selection had started. She had been so concerned about her maids, when it hadn't even crossed my mind as to how safe the staff was.

With her dressed up in the expensive silks and cottons of the castle's it's hard to remember how much of a gap there is between us. It isn't something I want to talk about.

But the same way royalty is not above the law, neither are desperate families.

"America, I'm not saying that some people don't have it hard, but stealing is - "

"Close your eyes, Maxon," She cuts me off.

"What?" I ask, surprised.

"Close your eyes."

Frowning, I obey, letting myself relax.

"Somewhere in this palace, there is a women that will be your wife."

The thought makes me smile as I picture my parents, smiling at each other lovingly.

"Maybe you don't know what face it is yet," she continues. "But think of the girls in that room. Imagine the one who loves you the most. Imagine your 'dear.'"

At those words, her face pops into my mind and my hand instinctively moves to hers on the couch between us.

She shies away from the touch.

"Sorry," I mumble, looking sideways at her.

Instead of being mad, or upset though, she just laughs. "Keep 'em closed!"

I laugh too, closing my eyes again.

"This girl? Imagine that she depends on you. She needs you to cherish her and make her feel like the selection didn't even happen. like if you were dropped on your own out in the middle of the country to wander around door to door, she's still the one you would have found. She was always the one you would have picked."

I can feel my smile slowly start to dissolve as it occurs to me for the first time that when this is over and I chose my wife, she'll need me to support her. she'll be my responsibility, the one I have to work for, to encourage.

"She needs you to provide for her and protect her," America starts again. "And if it came to a point where there was absolutely nothing to eat, and you couldn't even fall asleep at night because the sound of her stomach growling kept you awake - "

"Stop it!" I demand, standing quickly, not being able to listen anymore. I walk across the hall, my back to her, staring at the wall.

"Sorry," she whispers quietly.

I nod but don't turn around. Finally I find my voice. "Is it really like that?"

"What?"

"Out there…" I trail off. "Does that happen? Are people hungry like that a lot?"

She sighs. "Maxon, I - "

"Tell me the truth," I say, turning and giving her a hard look.

"Yes. That happens," she concedes. "I know of families where people give up their share for their children or siblings. I know of a boy who was whipped in the town square for stealing food." She squeezes her eyes shut as a pained look comes across her face. "Sometimes you do crazy things when you're desperate."

The story of the boy really hits home for me. "A boy? How old?"

"Nine," She breathes out, as a visible shiver goes through her body.

Then a terrifying thought crosses my mind.

"Have you - " I have to clear my throat before continuing. " - have you ever been like that? Starving?"

She drops her head, staring at the ground. And my heart breaks.

"How bad?"

"Maxon, it will only upset you more," she argues.

"Probably," I agree, nodding darkly. "But I'm only starting to realize how much I don't know about my own country. Please?"

She lets out a sigh. "We've been pretty bad. Most times if it gets to where we have to chose, we keep the food and lose electricity."

I couldn't even imagine having to decide between comfort and hunger. In my entire life, never have I had to go, an hour even, without warmth in the winter, or the comfort of air conditioning in the summer.

"The worst was when it happened near Christmas," she carries on. "It was very cold so we were all wearing tons of clothes and watching our breath inside the house. May didn't understand why we couldn't exchange gifts."

An image of running downstairs on Christmas mornings, in barefeet seeing as I didn't have to worry about being cold, to a mountain of gifts sitting under a ten foot tree, decorated with thousands of ornaments.

Then I picture America, sitting with her family, wrapped in blankets, around a family, having no gifts to exchange, the disappointed looks over her younger siblings when her parents explained that there would be no gifts that year.

"As a general rule, there are never any leftovers at my house," America continues. "Someone always wants more."

I can feel the blood drain from my face as I picture America going to bed hungry. Her younger sister and brother that she speaks so highly of, unable to sleep because of the pain in their stomachs.

In an impossible attempt to make me feel better America adds, "I know the checks we've gotten over the last few weeks have really helped, and my family is very smart about money. I'm sure they've already tucked it away so it'll stretch out for a long time. You've done so much for us Maxon." She tries to offer me a smile but I can't wipe the sad look off my face.

"Good God," I mutter, speaking for the first time. "When you said you were only here for the food, you weren't kidding were you?"

A pained look crosses her face. "Really Maxon, we've been doing pretty well lately. I - "

Before she can finish her thought I cross over to her and place a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you at dinner."

As I walk away, the only thought in my head is, I can never let this happen again. I head fearlessly to my father's office, straightening my tie as I go.


	2. Date With Janelle

Standing in front of my mirror, I tighten my tie before buttoning my coat buttons and combing my hair. Glancing up at the clock, I see that I have five minutes before my scheduled date with Janelle at two thirty.

We will be horseback riding, seeing as it will be easy for her to learn if she doesn't know how, and easy enough to talk during, which is important seeing as this is the first date I will have gone on with her.

Glancing up at the clock again, I see that I will have to leave now if I want to make it to Janelle's room on time. It would not be a good first impression if she had to await me for longer than promised.

Making my way to her room I come across Celeste.

"Prince Maxon!" she says, delighted to see me. I really don't understand why America dislikes her so much, all my encounters with her have been pleasant.

"Hello Lady Celeste," I nod to her.

"Where are you off to?" she teases. "Would you care to escort me to my room?"

"Afraid not my dear," I say, hoping to let her down easy. "I am already running late."

Her face falls. "I understand," She mumbles to the floor. "I'll leave you then."

Not able to bear leaving her in such a state I ask, "Would you be free tomorrow though? For a movie perhaps?"

She grins up at me. "Yes!"

"Until then," I agree, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it before carrying on my way.

When I finally come to Janelle's door, I knock twice before a maid opens it, swooping into a perfectly practiced curtsy. "Your Majesty."

I see Janelle come up behind her and she quickly scurries to the back of the room.

"Lady Janelle," I greet. "I apologize for my tardiness."

But she just smiles "That's quite alright Your Majesty."

Offering her my arm, I lead towards the barn where our horses have been prepared. Luckily, as it turns out, Janelle is already equipped with the skills of horseback riding, climbing onto the horse without difficulty.

She offers me a nod and we start towards the riding path where I know we will be protected from any lingering cameras.

"So how have you been enjoying your time at the castle?" I ask, hoping to start a conversation.

"Oh it's been so lovely," She gushes, maybe a little bit too excited. "Everyone is so kind and it's been so nice having other girls around! I come from a family of brothers you see."

"Ah," I reply. "So they've all been kind?"

"Oh yes! Well… at least most of them."

This spikes an almost immediate red flag in the back of my mind. "Most?"

"Well…" She looks torn on what to say. "Lady America… she's…"

I can feel my eyes narrow and I come to a stop. "She's what?"

"She just… " Sighing, Janelle turns to face me. "You must admit, she's slightly out of control."

I clench my teeth. "Out of control?"

"Maybe not out of control per say, she just has a way of acting that, from an outsider's point of view, makes the rest of us look slightly… stiff. You've already spoken to her privately so you've got to be able to see that she's a little…"

"A little what?" I demand. "Finish your thought!"

"She's too real for all of this!" Janelle blurts. "We all act perfectly poised and behave our selves and she runs around here like she owns the place. She's too comfortable, doesn't know how to behave herself in front of royalty and I think we both know it's because of how she was raised."

I can hardly look at the women I am currently on a date with. "Are you insinuating-"

"Because she's a five!" Janelle burst out. "She's a five and she doesn't realize that you don't just act normal and behave how you normally would under normal circumstances!"

Without sparing her a glance, I turn my horse around and start back towards the barns. "I'm afraid this isn't going to work," I tell her without turning. "You may pack your things and a car will be for you within the hour."

"What? No! Prince Maxon I truly didn't mean to upset you!" She turns her horse and trots quickly until she is beside me. "I thought you felt the same way your highness. I thought everyone did!"

"I'm afraid you were mistaken," I tell her without glancing her way.

"I'm sorry your highness! Please Prince Maxon, I was only stating the other girl's thoughts-"

Sliding off my horse when we reach the stables I finally turn to her. "I have a meeting I must get to," I lie. "I would like to thank you for coming and staying with me, but you may go now."

And with that I hand my horse to one of the stable hands and enter the castle without turning back.


	3. The Rain

As the other girls started leaving breakfast, I made eye contact with America and she seemed to get the message that I want her to stay.

Once the room is mostly empty, with the door closing behind my father, I make my way over to her and she meets me halfway. I lace my large, rough fingers with her small, smooth ones.

"I'd ask what you want to do today," I promise her. "But our options are pretty limited. No archery, no hunting, no riding, no anything outside."

Guilt presses down on me as she sighs.

"Not even if we took a slew of guards?" She tries.

"I'm sorry America," I say regretfully. "But what about a movie? We can watch something with spectacular scenery."

"It's not the same," She moans. But then offers me a sly smile and tugs me towards the door. "Come on. Lets go make the best of it."

"That's the spirit," I praise, thankful for her seemingly endless spirit.

She stopped suddenly on our way down to the theater.

"It's raining!" America gasps, releasing my arm and pressing her hand to the large window, an expressing I can't quite read. "It's so beautiful."

This makes me smile and I wrap an arm around her waist from behind. "Leave it to you to find beauty in something others would say ruins a day."

She stares out into the dark clouds longingly. "I wish I could touch it."

I sigh in defeat. "I know you do, but it's just not-"

I never finish my thought though, as an idea occurs to me.

Turning in search of a reason behind my sudden cut off, America frowns at me. Glancing up and down the halls, making sure we're alone, I grab America's hand and start towing her towards the stairs.

I can feel her smile on my back as we wind our way up the stairs. I lead her into one of the upstairs parlors, glancing around once more before steering us towards the wall next to the fireplace. I reach under the lip of the mantle for the hidden latch that I know is there.

Pushing open a hidden panel to a twisting staircase, I reach out to America, who is watching all of this in obvious shock and surprise. "Take my hand."

Obediently, she slips her fair skinned hand into mine and follows me up the stairs until we come to a door. I pull it open and we are immediately hit with the sound of pounding rain.

"The roof?" She asks in astonishment.

I nod. I know it's not what she had hoped, seeing as there are walls obstructing our view, but we're outside nonetheless.

But America doesn't seem to mind, taking a tiny step forward and reaching her hand out, letting the raindrops hit her soft skin.

I let out a little chuckle before pushing her out into the downpour.

I can hear her loud gasp over the rain and she is soaked in mere seconds. Whipping around she clasps her hands around my upper arm and tugs hard. Pretending to struggle against her, I grin, letting her force me out into the rain with her.

Pulling her over to one of the walls, I point out into the rain. "Look."

She stares in complete awe at the beautiful view in front of us and it briefly crosses my mind that one day, it may not look like this anymore.

"I don't want the rebels to take it," I tell her over the sound of the pounding rain. I realise how snotty that must've sounded and add, "I don't know how bad the death toll is, but I can tell that my father is keeping it a secret from me. He's afraid I'll call off the selection."

"Is there a way to find out the truth?"

I consider this for a second, knowing she deserves to know the truth without wanting to put too much stress on her.

"I feel like, if I could get in touch with August, he'd know. I could get a letter to him, but I'm afraid of putting too much in writing. And I don't know if I could get him into the palace."

She seems to think for a minute before responding. "What if we could get to him?"

This makes me laugh. It hadn't even crossed my mind, I doubt it would even be possible. How do you suggest we do that?"

She smiles up at me and shrugs. "'ll work on it."

I offer her an appreciative look. "It's nice to say things out loud. I'm always watching what I say. I feel like no one can hear me up here, I guess. Just you."

"Then go ahead and say anything," She offers.

I smirk. "Only if you will."

"Fine," She answers without reservation.

"Well," I start. "What do you want to know?"

She considers this for a minute, pushing the wet hair out of her face. "Did you really not know about the diaries?"

Slightly embarrassed, I shake my head. "No. But I'm up to speed now. Father made me read them all. If August had come two weeks ago, I would have thought he was lying about everything, but not anymore." I look down at her, catching her eyes with mine. "It's shocking, America. You only scratched the surface with what you read." I consider my next statement before saying, "I want to tell you about it, but I can't yet."

"I understand."

I already know my question for her and give her a look saying there's no getting out of answering it. "How did the girls find out about you taking off my shirt?"

She glances at the ground, seemingly ashamed. "We were watching the guards work out." Her face turns red as she continues, "I said you looked as good as any of them without your shirt. It slipped out."

I let my head fall back in a laugh at that. "I can't be mad about that."

Realizing it's her turn to question me, America smiles up at me. "Have you ever brought anyone else up here?"

Guilt spreads through me. Sadly, I say, "Olivia." Then, quickly add, "One time, and that's it."

Then, without thinking, I blurt, "I kissed Kriss." Refusing to look at her, I continue, "Recently. For the first time. It only seems right that you should know."

I risk a peek, to see her reaction, and am surprised to see her nodding.

"I hate dating you this way," she sighs, fidgeting with her wet clothes.

"I know," I say sadly. "It's just how it is."

"Doesn't make it fair," she pouts.

Laughing, I reason, "When has anything in our lives ever been fair?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you," she says suddenly, making me nervous. "And if you let on that you know, he'll get worse, I'm sure, but, your father's been saying things to me. He also took away the payments for my family. None of the other girls have them anymore, so I guess it looked bad anyway."

"I'm sorry," is my immediate reply. Looking out over the bright city, and away from America, a million scenarios of my father cornering America and questioning her run through my head. And then her family, the devastation she must have felt in hearing they would no longer be getting her income…

"I don't think there's a way to undo that one, America."

"You don't have to," she assures me. "I just wanted you to know it was happening. And I can handle it."

"You're too tough for him. He doesn't understand you," I try to console her, reaching down for her hand.

We both seem to realize that our little game has ended, upset with how down the mood has become, I look down at our intertwined hands. "Do you…." I take a deep breath. "Do you want to dance?"

To my relief, she nods. "But I'm awful."

"We'll go slow," I promise, pulling her close and placing a hand on her waist. She set her hand on mine, and used the other to lift the soaked fabric of her dress, to keep from tripping over it.

We were barely swaying as she rested her cheek on my chest. I place my chin on the top of her head and we spin to the patter of rain.

I tighten my grip around her and I feel her relax into me. Looking up at me, I feel her place one hand on my cheek, pulling me down for a kiss. I wrap both arms around her back, holding her to me as though my life depends on it.

Finally breaking the kiss, I look down at me. "You're so pretty when you're a mess."

She laughs, seeming nervous suddenly. "Thank you. For that and for not giving up," she clarifies.

I run my fingers over her cheek and nose to her chin, hoping to sooth her. "You're worth it," I promise her. "I don't think you get that. You're worth it to me." I offer her a smile, kissing the tip of her nose. "Let's go get dry and watch a movie."  
She nods. "Sounds good."

I watch in amusement as she tries to wring the water out of her dress before giving up and letting me lead back down the staircase.

"I vote for comedy," she announces.

"I vote for action," I contrast.

"Well," She says, sending me a sly look. "You just said I was worth it so I think I'm going to win this one."

I let out a laugh. "Nicely done."

I push through the panel leading back to the parlor, but stop dead when I see who's standing there.

"I'm assuming this was your idea," my father addresses me.

Hoping to keep America out of trouble, I reply with a simple, "yes."

"Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in?" He demands.

"Father there were no rebels waiting on the roof," I counter pointlessly.

"One well aimed bullet is all it would take, Maxon," he insists. "You know we're stretched tight sending guards to watch the girls' homes," he says it as if it was his choice they would have no protection. "The dozens of these who've been sent have gone AWOL. We're vulnerable." Then, he looks past me and glares at America, who is peeking over my shoulder. I'm tempted to step in front of her. "And why is it that when anything happens these days, she's got her hands all over it?"

I don't say anything, knowing it's pointless.

"Get cleaned up," my father demands. "You have work to do."

Not wanting to give up my time with America, and certainly not wanting to go with my father, I start, "But, I-"

I don't get any farther though, as he cuts me off with a single glare, telling me I had better obey.

"Very well."

Taking my arm, my father starts dragging me away. I look over my shoulder, mouthing a _sorry_ to America. She offers me a smile and then I'm around the corner.


End file.
